


Call Me Later

by Tamyou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Pack, M/M, Middle of Season 3, One Shot, Other Pack(s), Pack Family, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Sadness. Lots of sadness, Sheriff Stilinski Knows, Stilinski Family Feels, Texting, inspired by a song, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamyou/pseuds/Tamyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be just another one of their monthly supernatural horrors. But the smell was all he needed to know Stiles was already gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me Later

**Author's Note:**

> And I'm back with another sob-story for the darling Teen Wolf fandom. This is a kind-of-AU set around the middle of the third season. Hope you'll like it :)
> 
> I own nothing.

It was supposed to be just another one of their monthly supernatural horrors, Stiles thought bitterly as he double-clicked on the folder on his computer that said 'bestiary'.

Research. That was his job. While everyone else in their pack jumped on the opportunity of brief peace and caught on some sleep, it was Stiles who kept working, doing his research and wishing his bed would stop looking so tempting. He yawned, vision a bit blurry as he continued to read - for the millionth time, even though after four years he already knew their traits by heart - about werewolves and their abilities. His target this time was a particular pack, one that went by the name 'MacNab'.

Apparently, MacNab's pack had a pretty fishy reputation amongst other werewolves, and rumour has it that it was cursed, since there was never a single Alpha of the pack that got the role by nature. Murder, blood and knife-in-your-back betrayals followed MacNab's pack like plague through history, and some of the famous deaths along their bloodline even touched their human relatives. Derek said that even his parents - his very powerful parents, Stiles added in his head - used to talk about them in hushed tones, keeping their distance as much as possible.

Stiles sighed and leaned back in his chair, stifling another yawn as he stretched his arms to the side, blinking rapidly in an attempt to stay awake. His head bobbed a few times during the past five minutes and his eyes slid shut when he finally realized it was no use. He tiredly glanced over to his bed, chewing at his lip for a second before making a decision. Pushing himself off the chair, Stiles stumbled onto the soft mattress without even bothering to take his clothes off. His head hit the pillow and he was out like a light in seconds.

The next day, their pack arranged an urgent meeting in Derek's apartment - den, as Stiles liked to call it, since it never really looked very home-y anyway - and Stiles presented his new information in front of everyone. He was still tired, even after the two hours of sleep he managed to get, and when he saw the permanent frown deepening on Derek's face when he looked at him, he realized the wolf noticed the dark circles around his eyes, too. He ignored the accusing glare that burnt at the back of his neck, put on a bright smile and kept talking to the others, explaining exactly the way he expected the MacNab pack to act in order to take over Beacon Hills.

After his lecture ended and suggestions of defense tactics were made, the pack drifted apart around the room to talk between themselves about what they just heard, while Erica went to make some popcorn for everyone, followed by Boyd, who helped her with the drinks. Stiles was just re-packing his notes and lists when he noticed from the corner of his vision that Derek finally got up from the couch and started approaching him quickly. A large hand on his left shoulder turned him around a little, and suddenly he was staring into two pale green eyes that glared at him fiercely.

"Oh, hi there," He smiled innocently up at Derek, pretending he didn't notice the homicidal look on the wolf's face. Derek growled.

"You were up all night, weren't you?" He asked accusingly.

"Two nights, actually." Stiles grinned at him like the little shit that he was. He knew very well he was practically poking the bear in the eye, but he didn't even flinch. Getting Derek all worked up was one of Stiles' most favorite hobbies. Seeing the vein on Derek's forehead already throbbing dangerously, threatening to burst any moment now... Stiled found that hilarious. "Did a hell of a job, though, right? Look at all this information!"

Derek didn't look very impressed, his eyes flashing red.

"You did it again." He growled deep in his chest, drawing Stiles closer by the shoulder, hand squeezing down hard enough that it almost hurt. "Whenever something weird happens, you stop eating, and you don't sleep. Don't you remember what happened last time? How many times have I  _told_  you not to risk your health like that? But. You. Never. Listen."

"Don't worry, you big mother-hen." Stiles' shit-eating grin grew wider as he dropped his files to the nearest chair and turned to fully face a pissed off Derek, shaking his hand off his shoulder. "I'm young and I'm healthy and even though you don't think so, I'm also pretty strong for my size and-"

"Well, not for long, with that attitude." Derek said quietly, quickly throwing a glance at the others to make sure they weren't listening in on them. He frowned. "Is it too much to ask that you idiot take care of yourself? Just a little? I don't want to have to visit you in the hospital again."

Stiles smirked.

"Okay, fine, fine. Whatever. Just shut up already." He agreed with a wink as the werewolf seemed to have gotten a little less murderous, then reached up to cup the back of Derek's neck with his palm and draw him closer, pressing their lips together in a soft, long kiss.

A snort of laughter and a few muffled giggles broke them apart after a few seconds of sloppy kissing, and they both snapped their heads to the side to glare hazily at the rest of the pack. Apparently, all the others have stopped whatever they were doing to watch their Alpha and their 'mom's' - as Isaac once called Stiles, and the nickname stuck - conversation.

"Ew, get a room, guys." Scott snorted again, winking at the two suggestively as Erica let out a screech of laughter, turning to hide her face in Boyd's chest. Isaac chuckled.

 _They are seriously a bunch of five year-olds,_  Stiles thought as he shook his head and slid his hand off Derek's neck to his back, patting it twice as he felt it rumble with a low growl.

"I give you my permission to kill them all." He said with a smirk, sending Derek after a squealing Erica.

* * *

A few hours later, with arms full with groceries, Stiles was making his way home, eager to finally rest his aching body. He was just rearranging the rustling plastic bags in his hand when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He drew it out and turned the screen on, smiling at the message that greeted him. It was Derek.

_[07:56 PM] Are you sleeping yet?_

Stiles smirked.

 _[07:57 PM] Nope._  He typed.  _It's only 8pm dude. On my way home tho._

It took only a few seconds for a reply to come.

_[07:57 PM] Go to bed the minute youre home._

_[07:58 PM] FINE. Stop nagging. I'm not even sure I'm gonna be able to sleep anyway, tbh. Big day tomorrow and all._

This time, it took him a little longer to reply, and Stiles could almost picture Derek sitting there in his own bed with his fingers hovering hesitantly over his phone. Even after four years, in two of which they were together, Derek still had troubles with using his words to express himself and his feelings. But he was still trying, for Stiles, and that's all that mattered to him anyway.

 _[08:01 PM] Don't let that disturb you, just ignore it._  The short message finally arrived, and then another quickly followed.  _[08:01 PM] I won't let them hurt you. You know that._

Stiles smiled to himself.

 _[08:01 PM] I know._  He sent, then added one more text.  _[08:02 PM] U know I trust you, you big sap. Just a little worried, is all._

 _[08:02 PM] Don't be. You'll see._  Was Derek's reply, and Stiles couldn't help the huge grin that came to his lips at the next sentence.  _[08:03 PM] Just imagine that - after this is all over, you and me on the beach. We'll be laughing at all of this._

Stiles snorted.

_[08:03 PM] Laughing? You?_

_[08:03 PM] You know what I mean, asshat._

_[08:04 PM] Yeah, I know. And I appreciate that. I love you. Talk to you tomorrow?_

Stiles waited for almost a whole of five minutes before Derek's next message got his phone buzzing.

_[08:09 PM] I love you too. Call me later._

_[08:10 PM] I will._

* * *

Stiles never got home that night.

It took three of his betas to restrain Derek from bursting into the emergency room at the hospital, and he growled and fought them hard for almost fifteen minutes straight before Scott's voice calmed him down enough to even listen. He eventually stopped struggling, and instead started to pace back and forth across the waiting room, eyes glowing red and fangs just barely concealed. He was scared shitless, heart pounding hard against his ribcage and cold sweat washing over his whole body.

No one would tell them anything. From half bits and pieces of information they got from Melissa McCall and Deputy Parrish, it appeared that Sheriff Stilinski found Stiles collapsed against the wall right outside of the station, pale and unconscious and heavily bleeding from at least three different places. The Sheriff - with help of two of his deputies - rushed him to the emergency room, where he was already dangerously hanging between life and death.

The Sheriff himself sat in the farthest end of the waiting room, away from everyone else, silent and shocked to the core and staring without actually seeing at his bloodied hands. They were shaking uncontrollably, the dried blood of his son sticking under his fingernails and staining the front of his shirt and pants. All Deputy Parrish managed to tell them was that the wounds on Stiles' body seemed like some kind of an animal attack. A wolf, to be exact.

It felt like the Peter Hale incident all over again. It was a nightmare, repeating itself. Over and over again. Only this time, they knew exactly who was responsible. This time, the victim was one of theirs.

They waited there for almost half an hour of anxiety and strained nerves and suffocating worry before every werewolf in the waiting room suddenly jerked upright, stiffening as they all turned to listen to something their human companions could not hear. Lydia and Allison seemed confused as they both exchanged worried looks, and even the Sheriff jerked out of his numb haze and raised dull eyes to stare at the group.

Then, a few things happened very fast.

Derek suddenly jumped towards the door in less than a second with his fangs and claws already drawn out for everyone to see, slamming it open and allowing even the humans in the room to hear the faint, rapid, alarming beeping sound from inside the emergency room. Scott let out a scared growl as Isaac and Erica whimpered in panic, racing after their Alpha with everyone else in toe.

They all froze on the spot the moment Derek managed to get past security and pulled the emergency room's door open with a loud 'thud'. The rapid beeping then stopped abruptly, changing into a terrifying, thin, long line of shrill noise. The room seemed to still and freeze for what seemed like forever, silent and shocked... but then time went back to normal and there was suddenly a mess of noise and shouts of urgent orders - doctors and nurses with bloodied white gloves rushed about the room, screaming to each other orders and fussing around a single table in the middle as they pushed their way past the shocked pack.

A glimpse at said table allowed a very scared Derek to see Stiles' silent body, covered in bruises and cuts and bite marks, so deep they could even see bone in some places. Derek sucked in a sharp breath, his heart nearly stopping. There was blood everywhere, more blood than Derek even thought existed in a human body... dripping from the corner of Stiles' mouth, staining his colorless lips, flowing out of his open wounds and soaking the sheets, covering every inch of the pale skin Derek could see... The horrible sight and the choking, metallic scent of Stiles' blood made Derek's stomach turn violently, and his hand flew automatically to the wall to grip at and steady himself on shaking legs, claws digging into the wall as his head started to spin.

 _No. No no no_. The desperate thought was a mantra in his head. He felt like he was going to throw up, his heart racing in panic.  _God, please, no. No...!_

They were already performing CPR on Stiles' body, but nothing happened for too long a time. And the longer they tried, the longer the flat, sharp line went on and on, it became clearer and clearer, and Derek just knew. He knew before they let go, before the doctors finally gave up and withdrew from the bed. Knew before they even called the time of death.

The smell was all he needed to know Stiles was already gone.

And Derek stopped breathing.

_NO...!_

He knew, and the broken, grieving howl that tore out of his throat as his knees gave out and he slid down along the wall, let everyone else know what had happened, and suddenly there were more screams and gasps and wails of grief echoing behind him. The voices surrounded him, drowning the sound of the flat line as one of the nurses disconnected the machine. One voice though, sounded above everyone else's. Derek's head slowly rose to look up dully as the Sheriff struggled against doctors and nurses to reach that bloodied table, his usually kind face twisted in rage and pain and unbearable grief as tears streamed down his cheeks.

"My son! Let me see my son!" He screamed at the doctors, fighting tooth and nail to get to the broken, still body that was lying on the table, and every word shot knifes of agony straight into Derek's heart. The Sheriff punched one of the male nurses in the face, struggling to get free. "That's my boy in there! That's my boy...! Don't you dare tell me he's gone, you son of a bitch-" Someone suddenly managed to get a hold of Stilinski's wrist, injecting a sedative straight into his bloodstream. It took less than five seconds for it to kick in as the Sheriff finally stopped struggling and lost his speech in the middle of a shout, slumping against the nurses holding him as he began to lose his consciousness. He was still sobbing.

* * *

The funeral was a private one. The only ones there were Sheriff Stilinski and the pack - Stiles' only family.

It was a sunny day, a beautiful day, and Derek was furious with the world for daring to be so calm and peaceful when Stiles was lying still and dead in the ground. He wanted rain, he wanted violent storms and dark clouds and gray skies. He wanted the world to cry with him, hurt with him. Because the most beautiful person in the whole world was gone.

That night, Derek returned to his own empty and cold apartment by himself, now strange and distant without Stiles' constant presence there.

His scent was in the sheets, his touch in the little details that made Derek's bare apartment home. Derek could almost see him there, cooking them dinner on the stove, changing his cloths with the bathroom door open, lying on the couch with a book in his hand, smiling up at Derek, with that beautiful, beautiful smile...

Derek dropped his coat as he lost control of his legs. He slid down, back against the wall and eyes staring forwards, unseeing. His heart was hollow, empty and aching. It was hard to breathe, hard to think as everything still smelled like Stiles, cruelly reminding him he was gone. Derek wanted him back, wanted him there so he could yell at him and hit him and tell him to never leave him again. He wanted to hug him and kiss him and hear his voice again, telling him he was sorry for leaving like that.

His wanted him back.

It hurt so much.

Derek's fingers suddenly shot to the side and fumbled with his cost in desperate movements, his breath hitching and hot, salty tears burning his eyes. He needed to hear his voice again, and maybe then everything would be alright.

It had to be alright.

He barely managed to punch the number he already knew by heart, hands shaking as he pressed the phone to his ear, tears rolling down his cheeks as he bit his lip hard, choking down a pained whimper.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

_"Hey! This is Stiles and you missed me. Leave a message and I'll call you later!"_

A sudden sob tore at his throat, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth as more started to spill after it.

The beep ended the recorded voicemail, and Derek immediately hang up, then called again. And again. Until he was dry and numb. Until he could no longer cry, or think, or feel, or breathe.

_"Hey! This is Stiles and you missed me. Leave a message..."_

* * *

MacNab's pack was caught and destroyed a few days after that by Derek's pack. Bloodied limbs and chunks of dead meat were found scattered around the woods for animals to feast on. It was their sweet revenge.

It was a month later that Derek finally went to the beach.

All by himself, he drove there without informing anyone or even leaving a note. It was a private thing, he decided, that shouldn't involve anyone else.

When he got there, he found an empty spot by the rocks where no one wanted to sit, and spread a blanket on a patch of soft sand and sat down, watching the waves crashing against the rocks. It was calming and soothing, making the painful emptiness in his heart just a tiny bit better. And so he sat there until evening fell and the few people on the beach started packing and leaving for their homes, leaving the beach for him alone.

Good.

When everything was finally empty and the sun had already set in the horizon, Derek looked up at the climbing moon that shone faintly above him, closing his eyes and sighing as cool breeze blew through his hair. It was beautiful here.

But Stiles was not here.

Stiles was dead.

He was gone, forever...

But that didn't mean Derek couldn't feel him around anymore. He slowly shifted to lay down on his back and opened his eyes to stare up, spreading his arms to the sides. It was so peaceful there... with dark skies tinted with lingering orange and purple stripes, the crashing waves and the rumbling waters, a beautiful sight he wished Stiles could see, too. Just once.

_You'll see. After this is all over, you and me on the beach. We'll be laughing at all of this._

The memory flashed in his head, words of promise he never got to fulfill. He sighed heavily as the ache in his heart grew, and closed his eyes again, breathing slowly. A tear escaped his shut eyelids and glistened at the corner of his eyes briefly, before it slid down the side of his cheek and disappeared.

And at that moment, that exact moment, Derek could have sworn he felt a soft breeze, a faint feeling of a familiar hand touching his face, ghosting over his skin so gently... and a hoarse laughter echoing as the waves hit the rocks.

Derek smiled sadly.

"I'll call you later, ok?" He whispered to the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me at [tumblr](http://tamyourue.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Reviews are food for a writer's soul.


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